A Nice Quiet Corner
by bettercrazythanboring
Summary: A short snippet of a Spitfire makeout session in Team Year 1.


Her hands tug on the strands of hair between her fingers as she bites and pulls on his lip.

His jaw juts out, yielding to her motion, but managing to make the submission a dare at the same time.

Artemis just _loves_ it when he does that and her smile alters the shape of the pink trail her mouth leaves in its wake as it travels downward his neck.

"Uh, babe, not that I'm not loving this," Wally says, Adam's apple bobbing up and down in his throat; her breath _tickles_, "but I think Supey stopped sleeping in closets _months_ ago." His hands fist in the plain, white sheets of the bed he's sitting on.

"I don't see Conner here; do you?" She pulls back to look her boyfriend in the eye. "Have you actually seen him be in this room in _any capacity_ since the start of the decade, as a matter of fact?"

Wally remembers he really doesn't like it when she stops kissing him for any reason and returns his lips to hers, despite the surroundings. "Yeah, but it's still his room and his bed. It's weird."

"Spoiler alert," she withdraws once again, tightening the grip of her legs around his waist, "when he started sleeping horizontally, I really don't think it was the allure of _this_ bed that did it." Her eyes flicker toward the picture of a certain redheaded girl, the only photo in the entire room.

"Gross," Wally mutters, pushing her away with a little laugh.

She puts her hands up with an eyeroll. "We're just making out; what's the big deal?"

"I…" He stares, mouth ajar, mesmerized by her pout. Those full, luscious lips. "I'm pretty sure I had a point. About the big deal, I mean. I seem to have lost it."

Her hands play with his collar. "When you find it, we can take bets on whether Conner's ever actually slept here."

"Uh huh." He blinks. For the first time in a minute. "Have I mentioned lately that you're gorgeous? 'Cause I think it doesn't get said enough."

She quirks an eyebrow. "I know I am. But you could stand to mention it more."

"I will." He nods. "So, how did we end up here again? My memory's a little fuzzy."

"Buddy, with the entire League at the Cave, it was either this or a broom closet. And you can't do this…" She jabs her finger in his chest, pushing him all the way down to the mattress. "...in a broom closet."

She untangles herself from his waist and lays down next to him at the foot of the bed, fusing their mouths together once more while their arms try to find a comfortable position that doesn't involve the loss of all feeling.

This moment is _all_ about feeling.

"I take back everything I said," he mutters against her hot breath. "I like this bed. I like it very much."

"So do I."

His hand travels to her hip where it finds a comfortable safe haven from the universe erupting all around them. It strokes and smooths the bronzed skin underneath her loose top, teasing along her hipbone, but not very far down.

They're not there yet.

He loves running his fingers over her skin, though, whether it's her hand or cheek or back. Something about it always sends a rush of an exciting, prickling feeling up his arm, through his shoulder, and into his every nerve. He's been wondering for ages what the scientific explanation for it is, but he'd rather spend his time feeling it than trying to research its origin.

She smiles at his touch and, eyes closed, trails her her palm up his arm, over his biceps, resting on his shoulder. His hand does the same—whether by coincidence or design she's too preoccupied to guess—and they end up in an embrace of sorts, mouths turning red from the contact.

It's nice.

But she craves more touching and it's much less comfortable than it would be with both arms free, so she pushes him with all her might once more, intending to roll over and start ravaging him.

Unfortunately for both of them, he does the same thing.

At the same time.

Both propelled backwards by the other's strength, they come tumbling down either side of the bed.

Wally manages to catch himself on the sheets at the last second and take them half-off the bed as he slides down it, but Artemis just drops butt-first hard onto the floor in surprise, flat as a pancake by the time her eyes process the fact that they're staring at the ceiling.

That's when the door opens.

"Oh, there you are, guess wha—! Erm." Robin steps in, taking in the picture before him from virtually the only angle in the entire room where he can see everything. The pink mouths, the unseemly state of the sheets, Wally's one foot still resting awkwardly on the mattress above him. "What kind of kinky—? No, don't tell me; I don't wanna know." He scratches his head. "Uh, Batman. Mission room. Now. Radio silence, polar suits, and, oh, did I mention: MISSION WITH THE ENTIRE LEAGUE!"

Wally props himself up onto his elbows to peek over the edge of the bed to see Artemis' reaction.

She only lifts her head to look at Robin with perplexion on her face, out of Wally's sight.

Dick groans. "_Now. _Suit up. Mission room." The door clangs loudly behind him and his cape billows in front of Artemis' eyes long after it's gone from her actual sight.

Still dazed, both teens slowly drag themselves up, rubbing their butts, which took the most injury.

"Maybe next time we should go for the broom closet," she suggests, pulling down her top that's stuck halfway up her bra in the back and hanging awkwardly across her belly button in the front.

"Good idea," he agrees. "After all, you can't do… _that_ in a broom closet either."


End file.
